


Undercurrents

by thisiszircon



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Episode Related, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:00:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24879598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisiszircon/pseuds/thisiszircon
Summary: Ace is no stranger to betrayal.
Relationships: Seventh Doctor & Ace McShane
Comments: 6
Kudos: 22





	Undercurrents

Sorin's eyes had become Fenric's eyes. They shone with malice: pure and prideful.

"The wolves of Fenric," Sorin announced. "Descendants of the Viking who first buried the flask. All pawns in my game."

Ace refused to back down, even as fear and revulsion gripped her. The wolves of Fenric? What did that mean? And it was _still_ talking, this thing, this monster, this body snatcher. Typical evil. Loved the sound of its own voice...

Except it wasn't its own voice; it was Sorin's voice. His scarf was wrapped round Ace's neck, his emblem pinned to her dress, but Sorin-the-man was gone. What had Fenric done to Sorin's mind? Had it been repressed, or destroyed? Ace realised that she hoped for the latter. Maybe it was a messed up thing to wish for, but it was what she'd want for herself. Better to be snuffed out forever than for a sliver of consciousness to flicker in the background, helpless as the body was usurped and friends were threatened.

Fenric held up the photograph it had taken from her. It ended its soliloquy with the triumphant words, "The baby is your mother. The mother you hate."

Ace's stomach flipped. She got out a swift denial but it was only reflex. The whole thing felt too right, and Fenric was too serenely superior: standing there, hale and robust in Sorin's body after the restrictions of poor Dr Judson, spraying its words like poison.

And it was her fault. She'd given it the solution. She'd thought she was so clever.

She could sense the Ancient Haemovore behind her, close enough to take a swipe with those vicious claws. Her legs felt as if they were made of wool. She couldn't have run from this confrontation if she'd tried.

She needed strength. There was only one person in the room who could give that to her. Ace looked at the Doctor. His face proved he was tense but not panicked. He was still, watching and learning and plotting. It was enough to reassure her: this wasn't over yet. Ace nurtured the flutter of hope until it grew into conviction. Fenric might be crowing victory, but that only meant one thing. She'd seen it, over and over.

The moment the monsters started to gloat, they were doomed. It was simply What Happened.

"You don't stand a chance!" she asserted. "Tell him, Doctor." She looked confidently to her friend.

Fenric ignored her defiance. Looked like it was all about the Doctor, as far as ancient evil was concerned. Ace was fine with that. The two old enemies studied each other, and she could almost hear the metaphysical screaming of the universe as forces tipped balances one way then another.

Then the gloating resumed where it had left off. The monster said, "The Time Lord has failed."

Ace nearly rolled her eyes as she thought, _'Bollocks to that!'_ She kept her reaction to herself, though. It didn't seem appropriate when, right there in front of her, Good and Evil fought for supremacy. Swearing at the bad guy? What was that going to do? She might as well go one on one with the Haemovore behind her, armed only with her catapult...though thinking about it, that catapult had served her well against a platoon of Cybermen. And wasn't there some kind of precedent when it came to big bad monsters and an angry young human with a sling and a rock?

In a moment of clarity, she knew what to do. Ace took her defiance and made it into something better than a scoffed expletive. This wasn't about attitude; it was about substance. Her defiance was not feigned, it was tangible. And she realised that the Doctor had already shown her how this worked.

"The Doctor never fails," she told Fenric. "I've got faith in him. Complete faith."

Fenric sneered at her. Then it ordered the Haemovore to kill them.

Too late. For the first time in...well, a _hell_ of a long time, Ace retreated into herself and allowed herself to feel. And not just the superficial stuff. Anger and exuberance were well and good and had their place, but it was time to go deeper. She found loyalty, and pride, and admiration, and faith. She found her capacity for love and its urgency astounded her. Ace ignored the prickling presence of doubt, her fears of rejection and vulnerability. No time for second-guessing. She reached for the warmth inside.

It felt like unlocking the doors of a cupboard; one that had remained untouched for eons. There was a mustiness to the sensations she allowed to swirl free and surround her. She almost smiled when some distant thought conjured the smell of mothballs.

Ace turned, holding her hands to her chest. She was barely aware of the Ancient One as it stood before her. She focused on images in her mind: the Doctor, swinging precariously down a length of rope in order to infiltrate a Dalek shuttlecraft; the Doctor, walking calmly away from an exploding circus big-top; the Doctor, goading an angel into self-destruction.

Always the Doctor. All the times she'd seen him win. Save lives. Conquer evil.

His voice intruded into her cocoon of faith but she didn't process the words. She was focused on her role: neutralise the threat from the villain's henchman, let the Doctor deal with the top brass. Once and for all.

Fenric was talking again, in that mockery of Sorin's voice. She didn't let it distract her. Image blurred into image. Ace thought of her friend and embraced her trust and belief. The emotions, so long contained, streamed out of her. She tried to remember why she'd closed that old cupboard in the first place. These feelings were life-affirming. Why had she suppressed them? Not that it mattered in the moment. All that mattered was that she felt them now, and their presence was down to the Doctor. He'd done this. Made her a better person.

She heard her own voice, though she hadn't planned to speak. "I believe in you, Professor." And hearing that much made her recognise the singing all around her. She'd known it was there but now she could _hear_ it, and she wanted to laugh and spin and throw her arms out and touch the faith-charged air.

Fenric growled with anger. "Kneel if you want the girl to live!"

Ace's inner voice snorted and said, _'Bollocks to that!'_ again. A smidgeon of attitude couldn't hurt, after all.

And then the Doctor said, "Kill her."

The singing fell in pitch and volume like one of the old wind-up record players losing its power. Ace felt the rhythm of her memories stutter. She turned to the Time Lord, wondering about tricks and strategy and the horribly unlikely notion that she'd simply misheard.

Fenric laughed, as if it really enjoyed the moment. It crowed, "The Time Lord finally understands!"

No more singing. Only the Doctor's cold, contemptuous voice. "You think I didn't know? The chess set in Lady Peinforte's study? I knew."

"Earlier than that, Time Lord," corrected Fenric. "Long before Cybermen. Ever since Iceworld, where you first met the girl."

Ever since Iceworld? What the hell did that mean? Ace kept her eyes on the Doctor, willing him to give her a sign, to explain, to reassure. Just a single look would be enough.

"I knew," the Doctor snarled. "I knew she carried the evil inside her. Do you think I'd have chosen a social misfit if I hadn't known? She couldn't even pass her chemistry exams at school, and yet she manages to create a time storm in her bedroom? I saw your hand in it from the very beginning!"

"Doctor?" she begged, knowing she was drowning. "No..."

She couldn't breathe. His words had winded her, like a sucker-punch. But they made sense. Horrible sense. Because...because he'd _known_ what was going on and he couldn't be bothered to tell her. Fenric wasn't the only being present who treated people as pawns. The Doctor did it too, she'd seen it so many times and made so many excuses. Ace saw it, so suddenly, so clearly, and the revelation was more powerful than anything her pathetic cupboard of hero-worship could offer. She'd been manipulated, not just by Fenric but by the one person in the universe she'd thought she could trust.

"She's an emotional cripple," the Doctor said, ignoring her. "I wouldn't waste my time on her. Unless I had to use her somehow."

"No!" It was too much to take, the weight of this betrayal. Ace was helpless as she slumped to the ground.

"Kill them," she heard Fenric order. Not that it mattered anymore. She didn't even have the energy to steel herself against the blow that would snuff out her life.

It didn't come.

Peeking from behind her covered face, Ace saw the Haemovore walk Fenric towards the testing chamber in the middle of the laboratory. "Kill them, do you hear me?" the monster insisted, to no apparent avail. "No! I command you!"

It actually looked cowed. Which was warped. She'd witnessed it blow out a window and whisk itself off in a blaze of light, and yet now it looked like a playground bully who'd checked over their shoulder and realised that their gang of lackeys was nowhere to be seen. Even if the big blue monster _was_ sort of menacing, didn't ancient evil have...you know, powers?

Apparently not. Because the Ancient Haemovore sealed itself in to the chamber with Fenric, and moments later toxic fumes obscured them. When the smoke cleared there was nothing more to see.

Poison gas could kill Evil-Since-the-Dawn-of-Time?

She turned in bewilderment back to the Doctor, automatically seeking an explanation. Seeing his face, however, made her question stick in her throat. Fenric might be gone but there was no erasing the words she'd heard the Doctor speak. They hung in the air around her, dismissive, rimed with frost. The Time Lord was no longer the man she'd thought he was.

Ace looked away. She knew she ought to be thinking, or reacting. Doing something. All she could manage was to cover her head with her hands and curl her body up as tight as she could. If she made herself small enough, maybe she'd just dissipate into nothing. Dissipating into nothing seemed like a plan.

No such luck. A touch came at her shoulder. "Come on, it's over."

It was over, all right. She didn't need _him_ to tell her that. "Leave me alone," she managed to growl, wishing he'd disappear and do her the simple courtesy of never making her look at him again.

"We've got to get out of here!" he insisted.

"Leave me alone!"

But he was stronger than she, and her reserves of defiance had run dry. The Doctor managed to drag her to her feet, then he tugged her along as he dashed for the door of the laboratory. Scenery passed in a blur, and mere moments later they ran clear of the entrance, slipping in the mud outside. As the whole place exploded behind them and debris rained down, Ace curled up in the dirt. Seemed as good a place as any.

"Couldn't even pass her chemistry exams!" she heard herself mutter. The sound was pathetic. In that instant the Doctor couldn't possibly have despised her more than she despised herself.

But when her betrayer spoke, his voice was tight with anguish. "I'd have done _anything_ not to hurt you," the Doctor said. "But I had to save you from Fenric's evil curse! Your faith in me was holding the Haemovore back."

So he'd broken her to _save_ her? Well, that was some serious spin. She'd almost have preferred another mental kicking. At least she could have trusted its honesty.

"You said I was an emotional cripple," she accused, hating the petulance in her tone when it ought to have thundered with outrage. "A social misfit."

"I had to make you lose your belief in me!"

Ace looked up. The Doctor's expression was desperate. And reluctant. And ashamed. Enough to give her pause.

"Full marks for teenage psychology," she bit.

The problem was, even if he'd been lying in the laboratory, even if he was telling the truth now _..._ could she trust a word he said?

"But it's not true," he told her. "Believe me." He nudged her nose.

Ace didn't shrug the hand he placed on her shoulder away. She didn't have the energy. For the same reason, she didn't give voice to the reply which formed in her head:

_'How am I supposed to do that?'_

~~~

For once, they stayed behind to oversee the clearing up.

The handful of soldiers that had survived the battle took orders from the Doctor with pathetic eagerness. It made no difference that he had no uniform, no rank, not even a gun. As he divided them into groups to take care of rounding up the injured, laying out the dead, putting out fires and making wreckage safe, Ace sat on a grassy slope and watched. Though she resented herself for it, she recognised something in the Time Lord: the calm, undeniable authority that made others believe he was worthy of allegiance. She wanted to believe it was more than an act. More than a manipulation.

He left her alone for a while. Most of the soldiers did too. It was as if she had some sort of aura around her. Maybe a sign over her head. 'Damaged goods. Broken pieces. Do not poke.' Not that she cared. Actually she was grateful for the solitude.

She'd retrieved the photograph from what was left of the laboratory and studied it for a while. It was odd, but she felt a new, almost objective understanding about her childhood. The things she'd learned in the last few hours fell into place alongside things she'd always known. Like the way baby Audrey would never know her father. And how little Dorothy had been such a Daddy's Girl: every secret she'd ever shared, every time she'd wanted a partner in play, every painting she'd brought home from primary school, all for him. What had that been like for her mum? Having the very thing she'd been denied thrown in her face every day?

Maybe Audrey's behaviour had been driven initially by a bittersweet sense of loss, but it had grown into jealousy and then withdrawal. Ace remembered, even in her earliest memories, sensing that her mother didn't like her. Kids always picked up on such things, and how did they cope? The only way they could: pre-emptive rejection. It had been a matter of self-preservation. She'd turned her back on Audrey before her mother could do the same to her. At the time it hadn't even been a conscious choice.

But she saw it all now: action and reaction.

The sequence was logical after that. Ace's father had lived with the uncomfortable atmosphere in his household as long as he could before reaching breaking point. Didn't help that he'd been a self-absorbed prick. Why did Daddy's Girls never see things like that until it was too late? In any case, his departure had given Dorothy and Audrey another thing to blame on each other. Another reason to hate.

It all came back to Kathleen, though, and the way her husband had been killed at sea. That had been the trigger. Ace couldn't help but wonder whether Fenric had engineered that tragedy. Maybe her whole lineage was beset by Fenric's manipulations. Or perhaps she was wrong, and things would have been just as bad if Audrey had grown up with a loving father. Maybe Ace and her mum had messed things up all on their own.

It was pointless thinking about it, because she'd never know for sure. It wasn't as though there was anyone left who'd take the trouble to explain it to her. She eventually tucked the photograph away and lay back on the grass, looking at the washed-out sky. She whispered words that she'd cried only hours earlier when facing the business end of a firing squad:

"I'm sorry, Mum."

They didn't make her feel any better.

~~~

When the rosters had been checked and the base's personnel were all accounted for in some shape or form – breathing or otherwise – the Doctor sent her to the TARDIS. He requested that she collect as many charges of nitro-nine as she could immediately procure. These were used to collapse the tunnel and caves beyond the crypt, rendering its poisons inaccessible.

Bang. Over and over. For the first time in her career as explosives-expert, Ace felt no urge to whoop at the destructive force.

One of the radios had been reassembled by the time they were done: a battered and jury-rigged box that didn't look like it should work, but did. The Doctor gave the young man who'd fixed it a beaming smile of congratulation. The soldier all but preened. Ace felt a surge of disgust and had to turn away. She knew she'd been that malleable once, too.

The signal for assistance went out from this remote part of the north-eastern coastline. Finally the Doctor surveyed the scarred camp. Ace stood awkwardly nearby. She wanted to be proactive about what happened next, but here she was, waiting for a sign from him. So much for self-sufficiency and equality and all the other lies she'd told herself.

He turned to her. "Time to leave," he declared.

She frowned. "Both of us?"

He startled at that, then peered anxiously into her eyes. "Do you want to stay?"

She'd thought about it. She'd thought about making off with a truck and putting her foot down and maybe catching up with Kathleen. Not that she'd have been able to stay with them for long, not with the whole family thing they had going on, but she might have had chance to get on her feet.

It couldn't happen like that, though. And, frankly, she didn't want to make it that easy for him. Ace shook her head. "Don't make this about me, Doctor. You were always in charge. Ever since Iceworld, remember?"

He looked down at his feet. "Yes," he agreed quietly.

The confession spurred her on. "Yeah! That's right! Fenric snatched me up and slung me across time and space. And you knew. Two years of my life, leading up to this. You got me here. So tell me what _you_ want."

His eyes grew dark, perhaps with anger, or impatience, or perhaps even pity. She didn't know. In truth, she didn't really know anything about him. Perhaps she never had.

"It must feel very strange," he said.

"What?" Ace snapped. "Finding out my whole life is someone else's design? Finding out I'm a _puppet_? Yeah, that's sort of weird." She was sneering at him. Anger was safer than hurt.

"It doesn't stop you from being you."

"Of course it does."

"You're more than the moves Fenric made."

"Oh yeah? I'll tell you what I am! _I'm_ the reason the Haemovores were released. And the reason Fenric solved your puzzle. And the reason you had to spend the last two years dragging a messed-up kid around the galaxies with you, because – by the way – Fenric wasn't the only one making moves!"

The Doctor sighed then pinched his lips together in thought. She trembled as she watched him, trying to hold it together, trying to maintain the moral high ground.

Eventually he said, "You asked me what I want. What I want is a stroll before we leave. Will you do me the honour?"

And, strangely formal, he offered his arm. Ace ignored it and felt a shameful flash of victory when she saw that this hurt him. But he simply shrugged and let her lead them away from the base, in the direction of the coast.

~~~

Afternoon was turning to evening. The sky was overcast but the air didn't feel cold, even here, nearing the sea. Maybe it was because she was so numb. After ten minutes of silence that pressed against Ace's skin – a silence that strained beneath the burden of things left unsaid – the Doctor spoke up.

"Do you know why Fenric chose you?" he asked, his tone inappropriately casual.

Ace huffed and replied, "Because it knew my mother and grandmother would be here."

"No, it was the other way around. Your mother was here because it chose _you_."

She frowned. "How do you work that out?"

"Because I know Fenric. I know how it works."

"Fine. So tell me. Why?"

"Fenric chose you," the Doctor told her, "because it knew I'd find you...irresistible."

"You what?"

"You'd be the perfect companion. He sent you to Iceworld to meet up with me."

Ace rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I got that much, but 'irresistible'? That's bollocks. I was just the raw material, it could have been anybody. I wasn't perfect. Fenric built me that way."

"You overestimate Fenric's ability to manipulate."

"Oh, very bloody likely! I saw what that thing could do. Dr Judson and...and Sorin, and all those _things_..."

"Think about it, Ace!" the Doctor insisted. They stopped at the top of the cliff path that zigged and zagged down to the rocky beach. The North Sea stretched out to the horizon, beyond Maidens Point. A light breeze ruffled the Doctor's hair because he'd whipped off his hat, as though about to acknowledge a funeral procession or propose to her or something. "Just...think. Fenric became my enemy when I defeated it."

"It was your enemy as soon as you challenged it."

"Yes, and then the challenge played out and it lost, and we were enemies."

"So?"

"I won! I imprisoned it. I left it in the shadow dimensions. It was powerless."

"Shame you left that flask lying around, then."

"I couldn't take the flask from this world. Not without freeing Fenric. The prison required an anchor – a physical object, in this dimension, on this planet. I hid it as well as I could."

"And what's the point?"

"The point is that Fenric was impotent! For seventeen centuries, it was trapped and powerless. Hardly in a position to manipulate anyone's life."

Ace frowned. The logic of the whole curse thing was beginning to claim more of her attention than the churning slurry of her resentments. In truth it was a welcome diversion.

"So when did it...you know. Set everything up. When did Fenric do what it needed to?"

" _That's_ the question," he approved. "And there was a lot to do. Lots of things to put in motion. Those Viking settlers were the point of origin. It couldn't go back earlier than that because it was already here, being beaten by me, in the desert. Paradox – that's one of the few things powerful enough to destroy it. It couldn't let that happen, couldn't overlap its own time-stream. So everything was spun from those Vikings. All of it, to draw me in. To put the pieces on the board. The wolves of Fenric."

He was going too fast. Telling her the answer without showing the working-out. Ace wanted to understand what he was saying, whether it happened to be the truth or not. "You've lost me," she declared, and made sure that the comment didn't sound the least bit apologetic.

The Doctor raised a hand to his forehead and squeezed, then tried again. "The logic game. Put counters in the various slots at the top and they'll follow a path according to the state of the gates. Yes?"

"Yes."

"So. Imagine you know where the counters end up. But you want to know how they got there. How do you work out which slots and gates were used?"

"You...follow the path back up to the top."

"Exactly! You have to work backwards. And that's what Fenric had to do."

She couldn't repress a bitter laugh. "So now I'm a counter as well as a pawn?"

"It's just an analogy."

"Fine." She forced herself to set it straight in her head. "So Fenric finally breaks free of his prison, picks a nearby body and takes a look around at his 'counters'. Then he works backwards through time, sorting out what he has to do to make those counters end up where they should be–"

"Which is how I know he chose you _before_ your mother and grandmother were involved."

"Doesn't make sense," Ace refuted. "Fenric manipulated me in the future from now. Forty years or so, in 1986. Time storm in the bedroom, remember? That's not travelling backwards."

The Doctor nodded vigorously. "And the Ancient One was from the future, too. A future rather more distant than forty years."

"So tell me again about how it went backwards from World War Two."

"Not everything Fenric set up had its roots in the past. But time flows in one direction." He shrugged. "Generally speaking. So first of all Fenric hopped forward and recruited the help of the Haemovores. That was its end-game. Seventeen centuries in prison thinking of revenge. The Earth's punishment for hosting Fenric's defeat. After that it just plotted all the paths backwards. Tweaked a gate, here and there. Played with lives."

Ace swallowed, staring out to sea. This explanation wasn't making her feel any better. "And it came across me," she said, trying to make her voice matter of fact.

"Yes."

She didn't want to dwell on counters and paths and the tweaking of gates, not when it all applied to her life, so she went back to the original question. When had Fenric done all this? Millington had placed the flask containing the imprisoned Fenric within Judson's machine: that had been the trigger. The moment the chains shattered. She didn't know how it worked, but for now she'd just accept that it had. Then...then it had gone into Judson's corpse and seen the Doctor, spouted a bit of vitriol. Then it had buggered off. Whoosh. A flash of light which had bent all wrong and a blown out window, and Fenric had left the building. Until the next time, anyway.

"It was when it left the room," she theorised. "The room with the machine. That's when it went off to muck about with our lives. I mean, something with the power to move like that..."

"That's right."

Which prompted another stray thought. "So why didn't it move like that when the Ancient One had it cornered in the laboratory?"

"Because the moment the Ancient One refused to poison the seas of this world – an act that would lead to its own creation – we had a potential paradox." The Doctor sighed heavily. "Normally I'd steer clear of them, but..."

"You set it up?"

"It was easy. A word in the Ancient One's ear when nobody was looking." The Doctor looked uneasy for a moment. "There's going to be hell to pay in high places when they hear about it."

The comment prompted still more questions, and Ace had only so much focus. She ignored it and went back to the sequence in the laboratory. "Okay, so..." She remembered imagining universal forces and balances. "That moment when the Haemovore mutinied. What you're saying is – it was like a pivot point? Tilt the future one way or the other?"

The Doctor exhaled with what sounded like satisfaction. "A very apt description!" he said. Ace refused to preen. "Fenric couldn't leave because it needed things to play out a certain way. Escape wouldn't prevent the paradox. As it turned out, barking orders didn't prevent it either. The Ancient One chose to destroy itself rather than follow Fenric's command, so the world which spawned Haemovores no longer existed, and the paradox destroyed Fenric."

"Thought a capsule of nasty-gas was a bit too easy," Ace considered, nodding.

"Well, even so, I'm not getting my hopes up. Seen one or two too many villains return miraculously from the dead."

The wry comment earned him a smile. It was only a small one, and if Ace had been able to quash it then she'd have done just that. But it was there, and the Doctor appeared to relish it.

"So that's why the lab spontaneously exploded?" she added.

"Energy surge," the Doctor said, obviously thinking back to those awful minutes. He looked like he was going to say something else, but didn't. He simply replaced his hat and gestured to the path down to the beach. They began to make their way along it.

They walked in silence for a minute or so.

"Do you see, now, why I explained all that?" he eventually asked.

"Um, something about me being more than Fenric's moves."

"That's right. He had only one pass through those years to arrange things. No reviews, no re-runs, no second tries if things didn't work. Which meant he needed...how did you put it? 'Raw material'? He needed raw material that didn't need too much refining."

"So I should feel less used and more unlucky?" she threw back.

"Well, yes, you were unlucky enough to meet Fenric's criteria. On the other hand, I was lucky enough to meet someone who'd give me everything I need."

Ace frowned. "I appreciate you trying to cheer me up, Doctor, but telling pretty lies isn't going to help right now."

"I'm not lying," he said simply, taking no offence.

"Oh, for–...look, I'd like to think I have my uses. I've got a talent or two stuffed up my sleeve. But it's not like I don't come with baggage."

"I _needed_ the baggage," the Doctor maintained.

"Right, you needed an aggressive, stubborn-arsed teenager who'd been royally fucked up by a broken home and a dead best mate and...and a liking for arson and explosives?" Ace snorted. "Do me a favour!"

"I needed it."

"Stop saying that!"

He turned back to her as they picked their way down the path, single file now, and Ace came to an abrupt stop, her eyes level with the top of his hat. The Doctor felt no apparent qualm, gazing up at her from a position that seemed like supplication.

"It's the truth," he said quietly. "Your stubbornness, your vulnerability, your demons. All alongside your courage and adaptability and compassion." He shook his head helplessly. "Everything I needed. Irresistible."

Though the walk hadn't been brisk, Ace heard her own shallow breath. She tasted tears.

"I believed in you," she whispered.

The Doctor's expression clouded with pain. "Yes, there was that, too," he agreed sadly. "Your faith. I didn't even know I had that...didn't know I _needed_ it until I..."

"Kicked it in the teeth?" she suggested when his words tailed off.

He shuffled. "Do you trust what I'm telling you now?"

Did she? She wanted to. But she still felt the tug of self-loathing and couldn't trust her own motivations any more than his. Which – she supposed – kind of answered the question.

Ace sighed. "No."

He looked quite crestfallen. "Oh."

"But I can say this. I trust there's a chance, at some point, that I'll believe in you again."

"Ah. Hope."

She looked him straight in the eye. There was no reason to hide how much his recent actions had hurt her. "Maybe I'm delusional, but it seems like it's all I have left, right now."

"Then we'll have to make it enough."

"S'pose."

He looked down at the ground, then up at her again. "If there'd been any other way..."

"When I believe in you again, I'll believe in that too."

A slow, sad nod of his head. "Yes."

"So before we head back to the TARDIS and scarper, give me a hand, will you?" He held up his hand, confusion in his eyes. "Not like that." Ace retrieved the photograph of the baby who would one day give her birth and held it up to his face. "I've got some baggage to shed."

Then she walked around him and led the way down to the rocks of Maidens Point.

~~~

Ace liked looking at the sea. She liked the sense of perspective. The first time she'd been on an aeroplane, when she'd flown to the French alps with thirty other second years for the school ski trip, she'd marvelled at the landscape visible through the tiny window. Coastlines and islands and then clouds and atmosphere. So much of it. She'd spent the whole week jiggling in anticipation of the flight home.

For several minutes the soothing presence of the sea's grey expanse cocooned her from the trauma of the day. Ace was just a speck. The wind blew and the waves ebbed and flowed. Beneath her feet, the planet spun through space. There was life in everything and she was just a speck.

It couldn't last forever, though. She had things she needed to do. The picture of Audrey was in her hands and she made herself look at it. Her mother. The life that had given _her_ life. And the absence of any kind of physical resemblance didn't matter, because finally she sensed the connection.

Her mother. Audrey McShane _née_ Dudman.

_"Don't you look at me like that, young lady, you'll show some respect!"_

_"Dotty? Come and meet Trevor...meet Arnie...meet Keith...meet..."_

_"Look, Dorothy, they don't have women pilots, and even if they did I doubt they'd be interested in some girl from Perivale Comprehensive with a criminal record and three pitiful O levels!"_

_"I know where you've been, you've been with that Julian, haven't you? Ellen was telling me it was fine, because everyone knows he's queer, so that's fine, isn't it? But god, look at you...you don't even know you're female, do you? What the hell am I supposed to–"_

_"You're trouble, Dorothy. More trouble than you're worth."_

"I don't love her," she heard herself say. "She's my mum and I don't love her." She knew it was the truth. She was ashamed and looked to the Doctor: to the man who'd betrayed her. "What's wrong with me? Why can't I stop hating her?"

He looked steadily back. "You loved the baby."

And that was the truth, too. One last paradox, to make sure she'd never forget the way her life had been tainted by Fenric.

"But I didn't know she was my mum!"

The Doctor looked away. When he spoke, his voice was heavy with introspection. "Love and hate. Frightening feelings," he mused. "Especially when they're trapped, struggling beneath the surface."

And boy, but wasn't that the truth? Though it sounded funny, coming from him.

She looked at the sea again, trying to see the undercurrents reflecting every twisting conflict inside her. Maybe they'd drag her down. But if she didn't face them, they'd never go away. And that'd be like Fenric winning. Controlling her life even after its evil had been vanquished.

In fact...that was the point. It came to her like an epiphany. Taking responsibility was empowering. It'd be so easy to blame everything bad that had ever happened to her and her family on some ancient curse. Ace decided she wasn't prepared to live like that.

As if the Doctor sensed how close she was to stepping out of the shadow Fenric had cast, his touch came at her arm, gentle and reassuring. "Don't be frightened of the water."

So she pulled off her hair-net, shook out her hair and then dived right in. 

Voices echoed through her thoughts as she propelled herself through green murk. The water was cold, not warm like Jean and Phyllis had described. Shockingly cold after the mildness of the air. But she swam on, listening to her memories, recent and distant. And the currents swirled around her, and she was better than them. Simply by virtue of her continued survival.

The Doctor was waiting for her when she surfaced near the beach. She felt exhilarated as her feet found the shingle and she staggered out of the water. The cold didn't matter. This was the first moment of the rest of her life.

And its first thought was: _'Fenric is gone, so why would he want me to stay with him if he'd meant those awful things he said?'_

She smiled at the Doctor. "I'm not scared, now," she said. Because she really wasn't; not of the sea that had given up its dead, nor the struggle to reconcile conflicting emotions. She was who she was, and she felt what she felt, and the Doctor wanted her to stay with him because what she _was_...was what he needed. She believed.

The Doctor nudged her nose then they set off, arms round each other. They paused to read the rusting warning sign.

"Dangerous undercurrents, eh, Professor?" she quipped.

"Not any more," he decided, and looked back at the rolling sea. " _Nyet_!"

It was the same defiance she'd found, and she laughed, still flushed with her small emotional victory.

They headed off down the beach.

~~~

Two weeks later, a villain straight out of the how-to-be-an-evil-genius handbook had been defeated. The Master. One of the ones that kept miraculously returning from the dead, according to the Doctor.

They made their way back to the TARDIS – now apparently hard-wired into her brain as 'home' – arm in arm.

"'Work to do.' Right. But – am I free of it for good, though?" she asked, after the Doctor had spent a few moments getting all poetic about the civilisations they had yet to see.

"You have no sense of the dramatic," he chided.

"Sorry, you want it in rhyming couplets? Okay then. Doctor, will you reassure, the hunt will bother me no more?"

He laughed out loud at that. "Very good!"

"Because I'd really like to know, if once again my eyes will glow."

"All right, I think that's enough of that."

"Hey, I could get into this. It felt like I'd forever run, beneath the stars, beneath the sun."

"The sun is a star."

"Bugger."

"And yes, you're free of it, so long as you want to be."

"Come again?"

He leaned in towards her as they walked. "You have the capacity for wildness. We all do – anyone who evolved from primitive beginnings. Which is the vast majority. But it won't rule you unless you let it."

"So unless I decide to start living in caves and eating meat raw and..."

"That kind of thing," he said.

"I like my steak blue," warned Ace.

"I know. But I think we can accommodate that without any killing sprees."

"Sorted." A corner turned and the TARDIS stood there in the distance, blue and bold against the suburban grey. Ace smiled. "Home."

"Home," the Doctor agreed.

"Course..." Ace shot the Time Lord a sly look. "You noticed what I said back there on the planet, didn't you?"

He didn't look at her, and made his tone as nonchalant as he could. "Oh yes? What did you say?"

Ace rolled her eyes. "You noticed. You old sod."

"I'm not being a sod, I'm trying to con you into saying it again. You might play along."

"Oh! Oh, all right then." They drew level with the police box. The Doctor turned to face her. She let the playfulness ebb, and – with a quiet solemnity – declared, "I trust you."

Ace wondered if she was _really_ seeing tears in his eyes.

"Thank you, Ace," he told her.

"Trust takes two. Thank _you_."

They were looking at each other and shared a smile which began with acceptance and forgiveness, morphed into tentative wonder and then made a rapid descent into self-consciousness...then they breathed a laugh and broke the moment. The Doctor unlocked the TARDIS. The moment they were sealed inside, Ace took in the light and the walls and the air, and knew contentment.

"I love this blue box," she said.

"I'm sure she loves you too."

"Yeah, right. She probably sees me as your bit on the side!"

Ace intended the comment as a joke but the Doctor seemed to take it quite seriously. "Oh, it's happened. There've been times when jealousy reared its ugly head. Not often, but...well, she has her moods, like the rest of us."

Ace glanced around the console room, a little taken aback. She'd always known the ship had a sentience of its own, but this seemed to be personifying to the point of madness.

But then again, what was mad about it? She was inside a dimensionally transcendental timeship, her life pledged to fighting oppression and thwarting evil, alongside a man who'd taken her faith and kicked it in the teeth and yet still had her trust. In those terms, there wasn't much about her life that _wasn't_ insane.

Her mouth quirked into a grin. "The moment she wants me gone, she'll let me know," Ace decided. "For now, she knows I love her." And she emphasised the statement by walking over to the roundeled wall and placing the flat of her hand on it. "We're a good team, the three of us."

The lighting pulsed, almost so gently that Ace thought she was imagining it, but the Doctor said, "Well, that settles that." Then he gave Ace an expectant look.

"What?"

"Where to?" he prompted.

"Anywhere but Perivale."

"Ah." He hesitated, then said, "I was wondering if there's anything else you want to do. Here. Before we leave."

Ace left the wall with an absent pat and closed the distance between herself and her friend. "You want me to go _visiting_?" she clarified, unable to suppress the hint of disbelief.

"It's an opportunity," the Doctor said. "I want to know what _you_ want."

Ace considered. "No, I don't want that." Not yet. Just a little longer, to be sure she'd found a sense of equilibrium. If her mother threw the old resentments at her, she didn't want to lapse back into the cycle of accusation and rebuttal.

Some day. Just not quite yet.

"Very well," the Doctor agreed amiably. "Anywhere but Perivale it is."

But she stayed his hand as he reached for the dematerialisation circuits. "You think I should, though?"

The Doctor sighed. "How can I voice an opinion? I know your childhood was unhappy. I know your father was absent; I know you experienced traumatic events. But you've never talked about your mother, except to say you hate her."

"So?"

"So if your hatred stems from abuse or neglect? I'd be doing my utmost to make sure you never have to set eyes on her again. If it comes from other, less clear-cut places...you see, I can't voice an opinion. I can only give you the chance to judge for yourself."

Ace sagged against the console. "She never hit me."

"I'm glad about that."

"Look, I'm not ready to talk about her. Everything that happened – it's still too close."

"But you do trust me."

She looked away, feeling self-conscious. "I trust you, that's not the problem. I don't trust myself."

"Ace." There came a touch at her arm. She turned back but didn't meet his eyes. "Talk about anything you want, whenever you feel you need to. But bear in mind – sometimes you don't need to trust in yourself when there's someone else there to carry the load."

Her brow furrowed as she processed this comment and found herself believing in it. His fingers were still wrapped around her arm. She stared at them.

"Really want to know what I want?" she said.

"Yes."

"I want you to take me away from this place and time. _All_ places and times. I want the vortex, everything and nothing, all around me. I want to be a speck. Then I want to go to the dayroom and sit on overstuffed cushions. Take a time out from it all."

"This I can provide. Do you want me in the dayroom with you?"

"I can't very well put my head on your shoulder if you're not," she said, and raised her gaze to meet his own.

He smiled, lifted his hand and touched her nose before turning to operate the console. The thrum of dematerialisation filled the air as the rotor began to move. Then the Doctor moved back, encircled her shoulders with a companionable arm and drew her into the passageways of the craft.

"I want to tell you something," he said conversationally.

"Go on then."

"In the church. St Jude's. When I...when I made the singing–"

"It's called a psychic barrier, actually," she interrupted, unable to resist the tease.

The Doctor just hummed his amusement. "I quite liked 'singing'."

"Fine, when you made the singing...?"

"I was thinking of the people who've travelled with me. All of them. They were the source of my faith."

"Including me?"

"Well, you're my travelling companion right now and you're not particularly forgettable, so..." He squeezed her shoulder. "Yes! Including you."

"Wow. Just as well I didn't say 'Kill him!' in the graveyard when you saved the vicar, then. We'd have been in trouble."

"Big trouble," the Doctor agreed. "Was that a dig?"

"If it was, I promise it'll be the last."

"You don't have to. I deserve the digs."

Ace sighed. "Faith collapsing," she mused out loud. "I'm kind of scared to go through that again."

"And you're wondering if the way to avoid it is to avoid faith itself."

"Yeah, but I'm trying not to listen to myself."

"Ah. Well, I never doubted your courage."

"Oh no? What did you doubt?"

"Myself."

"So we've that much in common, have we?"

They came to the door of the dayroom and the Doctor pushed it open. Inside, the room was familiar and welcoming; like a comfortable den in a country house. One whole wall was a blanket of light, soft and bright as sunshine, warming everything it touched. Ace smiled. She'd found this place only a week or so after Iceworld, and visited often. It had consoled her through more trying times than this.

Still in the doorway, the Doctor faced her. "I doubted I'd ever earn back your trust. When I saw how much I'd hurt you, it seemed too much to hope."

His sorrow made her opt for humour, just to cheer him up. "You were wrong to doubt, then, weren't you? It's okay to admit it. 'I was wrong. What a silly old Time Lord I am.'" She challenged him with a smirk. "Go for it."

He smiled, but Ace saw – behind the expression – something that suggested apprehension. Even shock. "What would I do without you?" he said, but it wasn't a platitude, it was a question. Maybe even an entreaty.

"It's a big old universe," Ace returned lightly. "You'd find yourself another stubborn, kamikaze fuck up."

"Ah, but Aces are rare," he reminded her.

"Give over."

He backed off and grinned. "Maybe I should have you cloned?"

"Maybe I should have you _certified_."

The Doctor barked a laugh and the tension she'd barely acknowledged lifted. He led her into the dayroom and they found comfortable positions at opposite ends of the expansive sofa that looked as though it had been designed for a race of humanoids eight feet tall.

"This is my favourite room in the TARDIS," Ace announced.

"Better than the pool?"

"Oh yes."

"Ah. I'm rather attached to the library."

"Fine. When you want to cry on my shoulder about your traumatised youth, we'll go there."

"And risk losing your faith all over again? I think not."

"That's just doubt talking. Won't last two seconds in the ring with me."

The Doctor arched his brow. "Do you know, I think I believe you. But this is your arena. So I'm going to sit here and enjoy the peace, and listen whenever you want me to."

Ace nodded. And thought. She thought for quite some time, and never once did she have the impression that her companion was growing impatient. She realised that their trip back to the scene of her childhood had been the last piece of the puzzle. All the pivotal moments of her life lined up, finding a kind of order she'd never managed to impose before. She understood herself better than she'd realised. It was time for another to understand her too.

When she finally began to speak, it didn't even seem awkward.

"I was six when he left. My dad. I got sent away to my nan's for a week, and when I came home he was gone. Mum told me he'd gone to heaven. I was ten years old before I found out that he'd actually gone to Bexhill-on-Sea..."

~~~~~~

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally published on my (now defunct) LiveJournal. It has been reworked. The earlier version has been removed from my Dreamwidth archive.
> 
> I love much about 'The Curse of Fenric'. I also find myself frustrated with it, hence this attempt to fill in a few blanks.
> 
> This being a story that overlaps with the final episode of 'The Curse of Fenric', I should do my due diligence and state the following:
> 
> Some dialogue in this story has been taken from the broadcast episode. The writer was Ian Briggs, the script editor was Andrew Cartmel. This material is owned by the BBC.
> 
> I did not follow the fanfic trope of italicising 'borrowed' dialogue, because I use italics for emphasis. The result would have offered the effect of Fenric, the Doctor and Ace screaming their original lines at each other. (It would also have made my eyes bleed.)
> 
> However, since this story exists in a small – but perfectly formed – corner of Doctor Who fandom, and will most likely be read only by people familiar with the episode in question, I am confident that the lines written by Briggs will be recognised. No infringement is intended.


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